


Bottled Up

by timetripping



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol, Angry Sex, Making Out, Multi, Smut, Spin the Bottle, Threesome, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetripping/pseuds/timetripping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela, Varric, Hawke, Fenris, Anders, Bethany, and Merrill all go off on Isabela's pirate ship after the events of Dragon Age II.  Isabela gets everyone together for some good, clean spin the bottle. Anders realizes that Fenris no longer sees him as all which is wrong with the world and realizes he's kinda into it. Hawke is also really into his two lovers finally realizing it would be totally hot if they made out already. Threesome ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottled Up

**Author's Note:**

> The formatting of this got a little fucked up b/c it's gone from my google docs, to word, to here, but it's still readable!

The night was pleasantly calm. The wind had died, leaving the ship dead in the water for the time being, and so Isabela relieved her motley crew from their typical ship duties early. They all sat in the small dining chamber, drinking a fiery alcohol Isabela had picked up at their last port. Hawke and Isabela drove the conversation, as per usual, and the group got progressively drunker as the moon came up. Merrill held hers surprising well, but the rest of the group, surprisingly, did not.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we play spin the bottle?” Isabela, of course, is the one who suggested it. Hawke gave it a hearty second; echoed by Merrill, who followed with, “Wait, what is that?” The pair escorted her and the rest of the crew into Isabela’s cabin.

            “Okay, here’s how it works. Uh, actually, we need a bottle I guess…” Hawke looked around and Fenris hoisted one of the last bottles of the stuff he’d pilfered from Danarius’s old wine cellar. Hawke grinned broadly. “There’s my man. So, I’ll just give it a spin here, yeah?” Hawke eventually managed to spin it in a perfect circle until it finally came to a stop, neck pointing to Isabela. “So, then I’d kiss her and then she would spin, so on, and so forth.”

The rest of the group slowly sank to the floor in a circle. Fenris and Anders sat next to each other, glowering out of the corner of their eyes. Isabela and Varric were whispering in each other’s ears and chuckling. Hawke had thrown his arms over Merrill’s shoulders. Isabela claimed the first official turn. The glass of the bottle clinked underneath her rings, and went round and round until landing on Varric.

            “Lover, come to me!” he chortled, and she leaned down and kissed him.

            “I bet you caught ten types of disease,” Hawke said, attempting his increasingly ill-fated impersonation of Aveline. Isabela rolled her eyes.

            “ _Please_ , Hawke. Anders makes sure we all stay healthy. And Maker’s breath, I thought I’d left that prig behind in Kirkwall. ”

            “Maker forbid, if one of us gets anything, we all get it.” Anders nodded solemnly into his glass. “And Hawke, you’re not much one to talk. Before we met you still thought you could ward off pregnancy is you only took a sprig of spindleweed and put it-” Hawke launched a pillow at Anders, hitting him squarely in the face.

            “Alright, we get it, Hawke made poor decisions and owes Anders forever.” Hawke pulled out the thin golden chain he kept hidden under his tunic. “Forever.”

            “Ok, ok, let’s get on with it. I want to see my hot boys make out! That’s the reason I hired you on, anyway.” Isabela banged her fist on the ground and knocked back another shot. Hawke seconded with a shot of his own. Varric landed on Merrill, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

            “Your turn, Daisy.” It took her a few tries to get the spinning right, but finally she did, and it came to a rest in front of Hawke. She sprung up and went to him. He buried her in his arms and kissed her slowly, pulling back a few moments later. Merrill remembered the time she had a crush on him and felt red creeping up her cheeks, but found herself pleasantly at ease with him.

            Hawke clapped his hands before spinning the bottle, bright eyes watching intently as it whirled around. Finally the neck pointed to Fenris, who looked up at Hawke across the circle. The latter moved closer and took Fenris’s chin gently in his hand, tilting the elf’s face up and bending down until their lips met. Isabela leaned in as well, nearly falling over Varric to get a better angle.

            Fenris breathed in the familiar scent of salt that was ephemerally caught in Hawke’s beard, as well as the faint remnants of the scented oil Isabela had gifted him at an Orlesian port. Hawke crushed against him, hungrily deepening the kiss, but Fenris was more than content to just let the warmth of the other man bleed into him.

            “Emma vhenan,” he whispered as Hawke pulled away, quiet enough that no one else could hear. Isabela let out a piercing wolf-whistle.

            “Take off your shirt!” she mock-yelled, cupping her hands to her mouth. Hawke shrugged.

            “We all know mine’s coming off at some point tonight.” And it was true; Hawke took to clothes like Ser Pounce-A-Lot the 2nd took to water. Fenris rolled his eyes and made his spin; Merrill.

            Despite their years of mutual companionship with Hawke, neither felt truly at ease with the other. Merrill’s unrepentant blood magic set Fenris’s teeth on edge, and his attitude toward her because of it irked Merrill to no end. Nevertheless, Fenris was loosened by the liquor in his glass, and their faces came together. The result was awkward and chaste; Merrill broke away, giggling.

            “I’m sorry Fenris, I think something went wrong.” He gave her a small, indulgent smile. “Let me try again.” This time she came to him and gave a pause before going in. She tasted the alcohol on his breath, and broke the kiss with a smile. “Fenris, you taste like spice!”

            “Spice is…nice,” mused Isabela dreamily. Suddenly, she sat up straight.  “Maker, this game is frustrating! I hate waiting my turn. I hate sharing.” She thought for a second. “Well. I don’t hate sharing. But I don’t like sharing when it doesn’t involve me!” Fenris spun the bottle for Merrill, and his hand accidentally stopped in right in front of Isbela.

"What a fluke," he said. "Looks like it's your turn after all." Merrill didn't feel nervous about kissing Isabela at all; the pair had gone much further than that. Isabela felt it was her personal responsibility to acquaint her Kitten with the unfamiliar corners of the world, and Merrill was more than happy to learn. Now that she could say she had kissed everyone on the ship,she felt confident saying Isabela was the best of them all. Hawke came close, but she didn't like how scratchy his beard was. Anders didn't really put any effort into his kisses with anyone but Fenris and Hawke; Varric only kissed her on the cheek, same as Bethany. Isabela was gentle with her but didn't treat her like she was fragile. Also, Merrill loved how Isabela played with her hair, as she was doing now. Slowly both pulled back.

"Save some for later, Kitten." Merrill smile demurely to herself as Isabela gave the bottle another spin which landed on Hawke.

Isabela sauntered lewdly over and straddled Hawke's lap. She nestled her face into his neck and immediately left him a new mark, next to a previous purpling one.

"Ooh, Isabela, do behave," he said, and she withdrew and shot him a dirty look.

"Sorry, ser," she purred and then turned her attention to his lips. Hawke's hand found its way up her shirt and Isabela's made its way lower. He broke away for a minute.

"Isabela, we both know I'm not above spanking you," he smirked. They returned to the kiss, hot and heavy. Isabela untied the scarf Hawke wore around his neck and he undid her head scarf. Varric cleared his throat.

“A _hem_.” Isabela threw a crude hand gesture his way, but the pair split. Hawke’s spin came to rest on Anders, who shrugged off his heavy coat before coming to meet Hawke. The group could see the wisps of magic Anders let out whenever he and Hawke came into contact; little breaths of created wind that played with Hawke’s hair and his clothes. Fenris sneered to himself; while he and Hawke were not exclusive, he was prone to jealousy, especially when there was a mage on the table. (And he had, as a matter of fact, seen that particular mage on a table with Hawke before.)

Anders pulled Hawke in by grabbing the front of his shirt, and Hawke took Anders’s chin in his hands. His thumb brushed against Anders’s lips and then he brought his own to meet them. Anders forgot to breathe as he took in all the sensation of Hawke right there, breathing into him. His nose pressed against Hawke’s cheek and he lazily half-opened his eyes, taking small pleasure in how concentrated Hawke seemed with the kiss. He pulled back and Hawke moves to his neck; Anders curled into it and locked eyes with Fenris to his side. Hawke’s other lover is staring at them, but his eyes don’t show the ennui or even anger that Anders was expecting; he looked intrigued. Anders knotted his fingers in Hawke’s brine-abused hair and pulled back, eliciting a high-pitched whine from the other man, looking to evoke some measure of protective instinct in Fenris. The elf, however, just shifted in his seat, staring coolly back at Anders, his eyebrow quirked. Isabela seemed to notice as well, and looked delighted. Anders let go of Hawke and returned to his seat, trying not to show his inner turmoil.

The game soon fell to pattern, and even Isabela seemed to bore of it. She excused herself and loudly announced that she and Merrill would be retiring to Merrill’s bedroom; her partner gleefully bounced off behind her. Varric turned in as well, leaving Fenris, Hawke, and Anders to themselves. Hawke seemed oblivious still, partially thanks to the alcohol that left him swaying slightly. Fenris wasn’t saying anything, still, but Anders had seen something behind those golden eyes, something he felt like he could enjoy.

“Fenris. I don’t think we kissed,” Anders said, nonchalantly. Fenris grunted.

“I don’t believe we did.” His words were a challenge. Anders turned his body until it was square to Fenris’s shoulders and leaned into him. This body was not foreign to him; he had repaired its flesh too many times to count, but the clinical touch of his fingers was an entity entirely separate to the rough grabbing of his hands. He twisted them now in Fenris’s shirt collar, lording his height over the other, keeping him down and forcing him to turn his head upward. Fenris curled his lip at the insult and wrapped his armored hand around Anders’s throat. Hawke’s eyes grew wide when he finally realized it was happening and a grin spread across his face. Finally their lips came together, and Anders pushed Fenris back until he was laying on the rug. Hungry hands undid buckles and knots, shoving aside inconvenient bits of armor. Fenris grinded his hips up toward Anders and the other groaned. Anders withdrew from the kiss to look toward Hawke, who was still not entirely sure he hadn’t been taken in by a lust demon.

“Come here.” Hawke did, and Anders grabbed onto the bulge that had been growing in Hawke’s pants since earlier in the game. He ignored Fenris for the moment to kiss Hawke again, more roughly than before. Hawke gasped as Anders rubbed him over his pants, a small tremor passing through his body.

“Let’s…ah…let’s take this someplace with more than furs on the ground,” Hawke said, in between ragged breathing.  Anders gave a small, guttural laugh.

“I don’t know, there’s something romantic here.” He moved back down to Fenris, as if the elf’s incessant writhing underneath him had suddenly caught his attention. “What do you think?”

“Shut up or get off me, mage,” came the annoyed reply. Anders laughed again.

“There’s your answer, darling,” he said, before rolling so that Hawke could lay down next to them as well. Soon Hawke’s hands joined his in easing Fenris out of the rest of his clothing. He knew Hawke would be content with just being present for this, aside from the bruises he left along the lyrium lines on Fenris’s throat, and so he concentrated on Fenris. He was entertained to see just where the tattoos ended; Fenris had never gotten fully naked in his medical care before. He traced them down Fenris’s chest until he came to their end; then he delicately palmed Fenris’s cock, appreciatively whispering encouragement in his ear. He found a steady rhythm, and allowed a barely noticeable pulse of electricity to flow from his fingertips. Fenris’s veneer of vexation crumbled and he let loose a stream of foreign words. Although he begged and cursed, Anders refused to speed up.

“Be patient,” he urged, holding back Fenris’s hips when he tried to grind into it more. Fenris damned him to each god he knew, and the Maker, as he felt himself come so close to the edge but not tip over. He felt on the edge of tears; like his chest was about to burst, but still the tension built. Suddenly, Anders’s lips left his neck and began to travel down his chest. His body shifted too; suddenly those damnable fingers were replaced by the mouth Fenris had hated for so long. Anders ran his tongue along the underside of Fenris’s cock, and as Hawke kissed the place along his throat he knew Fenris loved the most, he finally found release. He spilled his seed into Anders’s mouth with a wordless exultation. Slowly, Anders withdrew and, when Fenris’s vision returned to a non-swimming state, his eyes were level with Anders’s.

“Good boy,” Anders said with a smirk. Fenris opened his mouth to say something, but found himself cut off by Hawke’s fingers.

“If I had known you two were as ready for this as I was, I could’ve arranged something _much_ better,” Hawke suggested, his other hand reaching down again.

“You think too much of yourself sometimes,” Anders chided. “Besides…I think we’ve had enough fun for tonight. I’m going to bed.” Hawke groaned and Fenris could feel him press his bulge against him. He wanted to insist that he wanted more, but Anders sat up and reached for his coat. Hawke muttered something about “fucking mages and their fucking moods” before sighing. He kissed Fenris’s neck again before sitting up as well; Anders was walking out the door.

“Follow me,” Hawke whispered, taking Fenris’s hand in his own. Fenris smiled.  


End file.
